Ward, Torch 7-3: Breaking Down
by ZanyDuck
Summary: An imagined update from several arcs in the future, where things are looking grim for Ashley-and worse for others. WARNING: There are some dark, torture-related themes in this fanfic.
1. Destruction

WARNING: There are some dark, torture-related themes in this fanfic.

The noises were strangely mild, their usual cacophony replaced by a loud crinkled-foil effect. It would have been mildly annoying, perhaps, in a better time and place. The recoil was similarly reduced to a dull fluctuating pressure, like when you're holding a hat and the wind catches it. It wasn't a mercy-indeed, it seemed to highlight the terror of the situation.

Not even Ashley's power was able to scream freely, now.

Ashley herself might have been much relieved by screaming a bit. By fighting, by protesting, by putting up a token resistance of some kind. It was hard to say. Perhaps the hopelessness would bring about a sense of resignation, perhaps the lack of responsibility was a mercy, perhaps the unassailable opposition justified the failure and the loss.

Human emotion wasn't that simple, though. Knowing you're the victim of an abomination does not particularly make it bearable.

Nor did the sour, apologetic expression on the abomination's face.

Perhaps she felt the same. Perhaps she *had* reworded her objectives, thought in hypotheticals, considered personal sacrifices, sought help in bending the rules. Dragon was adept at such things, and available for consultation. Surely Dragon could have helped to supply new questions, could have provided some relief to the woman with only answers?

Again, perhaps not. Perhaps this really was *the* path to victory. Perhaps Teacher's involvement alienated Dragon and perhaps Sleeper's war with Alert was, paradoxically unbeknownst to its participants, about to reach a turning point.

None of that was any comfort to the parties present.

Apparently Ashley did have some small chance of resisting, because Contessa suddenly broke her morbid silence. "No, you can't mercy-kill either of you. This is going slower than it should, and I have the sense it is expressly because that possibility must be excluded."

Ashley didn't react. She couldn't, of course.

"It's more than one million. Is that what you're thinking, that saving one million isn't worth all of this? That this torture, this forced betrayal, this destruction of self is far worse than death?"

No response.

"Destruction of self is Sleeper's entire M.O., and you think he would stop at one million? How do you feel about one billion destructions of selves, or ten billion? Do you think he would spare you or your friend?"

Contessa gestured to the struggling form that was strapped to the table. She didn't have the ability to directly read minds, but her power could counteract someone's train of thought if it had to. That utilitarian logic wasn't the kind to sway Ashley's mind in a situation like this, but it could break her down even further.

Kenzie's frantic motion increased in a way that suggested the torture was indeed progressing more rapidly now. "Safety" had become less of a factor. Presumably her screaming would have intensified if her vocal cords hadn't been the first parts to go.

Covetous Acquisition shifted a bit, his tentacles making a sound that could best be described as "gooey." He REALLY wanted that remote control. It was subtle, given the distance and given the rough environment of the warehouse, but Kenzie's "camera buds" must have picked it up. Her eyes opened and looked around a bit.

"You know your friends can't help you."

Kenzie stopped looking around. Tattletale was looking at Acquisition as though she wanted to tear him apart, though naturally she wasn't in a position to do any more than glare.

"Isolation is a part of a trigger. I don't pretend to understand the details, but the situation makes certain things apparent. I suspect the physical pain isn't even the focus here-mental powers come from mental stresses, generally. You're afraid of isolation, of cut communications, of being left behind. You're afraid you can't participate.

"The gradual, surgical vanishment of your body from within will surely make that worse. You're going to be a bit smaller, much more frail, and far less able to keep up with your team. Nothing is being completely destroyed, just collapsed-you'll be able to do everything you need to, as long as you are isolated from the action.

"I'm sorry, Kenzie, but you will be the 'frail sheltered child' for the rest of your life."

Kenzie looked around again, desperate for someone to help.

"You know my power doesn't work that way. If I needed to guard against your friends, I would be doing it. The Path accounts for such things. I wish they could fully understand, but I asked for a way to do this without hurting anyone else from your group. I am being as kind as I can, however little you may believe it."

Her power? No, it didn't work that way, either. Valkyrie had told us Contessa wasn't a Cauldron cape. Contessa had a living, active agent, and she gave it complete control after setting a goal. Hell, she wasn't even good at setting goals!

Ashley wasn't the closest thing to a pure alien. Ashley was a science project, a doctored body with doctored memories and a doctored alien passenger. I didn't feel any less kinship with her for it, not after all we had been through, but she wasn't her agent.

Contessa was the alien. It was like full demonic possession, the host never fighting back, and it was sickening to behold.

The agents wanted conflict? Hers, mine, ours, they would get it tonight. I double-checked the positions of my added arms, especially the one Rain hastily made yesterday. Arms made with no "bonus day" effect would guide the Wretch just as well as the strong arms, but I needed to favor the strong arms in a fast-paced battle. It reminded me of the troubles with my real arm after I had been shot.

Tattletale closed her hand-the "ready" signal.

The whole group silently took positions behind the crates. I dimly recalled that someone else would be putting herself in place, but the details slipped my mind. Frustrating.

Acquisition was eyeing the remote even more "Covetously," if such a thing was possible.

Rain's main hands made ready to hold his blades while his belt hands brought up the lenses. I recognized two of the least-used patterns: Circle and scattershot, two of the most dangerous (and difficult to dodge).

Tattletale stared intently, ready to give the "go" signal.

Byron switched on the heating element for his steam-to-stone cannon, apparently unconcerned about getting his hands dirty.

Sveta, though, Sveta broke my heart. I hated Contessa with every bit of my being, hated what she had driven us to. I remembered the doubt and fear, the hesitation Sveta had displayed when she finally accepted the "kill arms" (and the difficulties we had with Chris' insensitive words to describe them). She had been nervous to use them even against the machines.

She wasn't doubting now. After five minutes watching Contessa torture Kenzie through Ashley, Sveta already had the "safeties" on her elbows wide open. I couldn't see the nanofilament tendril extensions, but I knew they were there, and it was painful to see that she wasn't about to hold them back.

"We're alone until your second trigger, Kenzie." Contessa sounded apologetic, but the torture wasn't slowing down. "You'll be even more alone afterwards, but it's the way things have to be."

We wouldn't let that happen. We would always be there for Kenzie, we would find a way for her to stay involved. Contessa was wrong, but she wouldn't live long enough to find out exactly how wrong she was.

Tattletale's power had confirmed our suspicions: Contessa hadn't asked the right question. She needed a weapon against Sleeper, she wanted Kenzie's second trigger, but she hadn't specified her own condition immediately after said trigger.

The moment Kenzie triggered, Contessa was done "wanting" and "needing." The abomination would get what she deserved.


	2. Salvage

The team behind the crate was preparing for battle. From the looks of things, they were going to win.

Contessa wasn't unbeatable, certainly, but she was generally careful enough to stay alive. Even the Irregulars, prepared as they were, failed to finish her off.

Fortunately.

It was spooky to think of successfully killing Contessa. Then again, Gray Boy hadn't been a soft target, either.

Valkyrie waited patiently for the attack. There was no rush. She had been seeking this power for a long, long time.


End file.
